


Noblesse Oblige

by TaleWeaver



Series: No Dungeons Just Dragons [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU: Dungeons and Dragons, Arya is from a cadet branch of the Starks (this will come up later), Elia and Lyanna are a couple with Rhaegar as the third wheel, Gen, King Rhaegar, because I think they both deserved better than Rhaegar, it doesn't really come up but I wanted to mention it, though not strictly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20109937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWeaver/pseuds/TaleWeaver
Summary: Ranger and Lord Jon Snow needs a magic user for his Party; Sorceress and Lady Sansa Stark needs to avoid being married to Joffrey.  It's a win-win situation all around.





	Noblesse Oblige

**Author's Note:**

> For the jonsadungeonsanddrabbles "Sugar and Spice" event; Day 1 - Love and Duty

Jon leaned back against the wall, the marble of the Red Keep still warm from a day’s worth of spring sunlight. It was only an hour or so past sunset, and the moon was rising over King’s Landing, the fourth-floor balcony giving him an excellent view. Candlelight spilled from the open doors on his left, and he could hear the music and chatter of the guests.

Yet another boring feast. A Ranger had no place in a palace, no matter his families’ opinion. He _had _missed them all, but he still couldn’t wait to get back to the Wolfswood where he belonged. 

“Lord Snow?” 

Jon turned to see a tall, slim girl standing in the spill of golden light from the feasthall’s many chandeliers. Her hair blazed auburn, gold highlights making her look like a candle-flame herself. Her skin was ivory-pale, her face breathtaking. She looked almost radiant. 

She delicately grasped the skirts of her dove-grey gown, and swept into a shallow curtsey; the exact proper degree for a daughter of a Great House greeting the son of a Great House. “I am Lady Sansa of House Stark.” 

“Lady Stark. Good evening.” Just because Jon loathed court socialising, that didn’t mean he had to be _rude_. 

“May I be direct?” 

“Please do.” Jon’s reply was heartfelt. He hated the talking in circles most of the court used as a matter of course. 

“I have heard that the reason for your return to the Red Keep was that your Party has lost a member.” 

“Yes, my Cleric,” Jon admitted. “Not to death; having fulfilled his duty as a child of a Noble House, Sam is retiring to marry a woman he met on one of our quests. My magics only work in the wild, and I have no other magic-users in our Party. I believe my Party needs to be well-rounded in order to be successful.” 

Unlike some, Jon considered ‘keeping your Party members alive’ to be an essential ingredient of success. 

It was only Jon’s heightened senses that let him detect her sigh of relief. “In that case, Lord Snow, I wish to join your Party. I am a Sorceress.” 

Jon took a closer look at her face. Lady Stark looked to be only a year or two younger than himself. Not that twenty-two qualified Jon as elderly! “May I ask – how old are you?” 

“I will soon be nineteen,” Lady Stark replied, lifting her chin slightly. 

Younger than she looked, then, but still... 

Once they reached adolescence and discovered their Class of Talents, all children of Noble Houses – especially Great Houses – were obliged, both legally and socially, to spend several years Adventuring, as only practice and experience could increase the strength of and their skill in those talents. Most Great Houses tended to send off their children early, usually after buying them a place in a well-known Company, with high-levelled career Adventurers who were experienced at shepherding novices and knew how to advance their skill levels and experience quickly and painlessly. 

“And you haven’t been Adventuring before?” Jon asked. 

He honestly hadn’t meant it as an insult, but Lady Stark’s mouth tightened slightly. “My mother doesn’t approve of Adventuring in the wild, and refused to allow me to do so until after my sixteenth birthday. I want very much to perform my duty by my House, and I wish to gain experience and strength. However, I insisted that I maximise my cooking skills first. It’s one thing to go Adventuring in the wilderness; it’s quite another to do so while trying to survive on food that’s likely to make you sick.” 

Jon grimaced, remembering what had happened the only time they’d let Grenn cook. Everyone in the Party had spent the next two days either groaning or dashing for the latrine. “An excellent point, my Lady." 

“Once that happened, I was invited to Court.” 

Nothing more needed to be said; invitations from the King were not turned down. By anyone. That was why Jon was at the Red Keep. 

“And you feel that you’ve put this off long enough?” 

Another imperceptible sigh. “Not exactly. Lady Cersei has decided I would make an excellent bride for Joffrey.” 

Jon eyed her curiously. He rather thought he knew where this was going. Everyone knew that Cersei had insisted her own father more or less buy Joffrey’s way through his duty. It was rumoured that Joffrey had been expelled from his Company at an embarrassingly low Level. Jon knew it to be a fact. 

“If I don’t act soon, I’m worried that Lady Cersei will force her husband to exploit his long friendship with my father to formalise a betrothal, and then use her position as my future Good-Mother to keep me from properly Adventuring.” 

“Joffrey Baratheon would never tolerate a wife stronger than himself.” 

Lady Stark smiled. “Exactly. But not even Lady Cersei would dare gainsay a Royal.” 

Jon didn’t quite snap at her, but his voice was curt. “I’m bastard-born. I’m Lord Snow, not Prince Targaryen.” 

“But still an acknowledged son of the Royal Bloodline, and raised as one,” Lady Stark countered calmly. 

Jon looked her over thoughtfully. She’d greeted him, correctly, as a Lord, not a Prince. Curtseyed to him as the son of a Great House, which he was, not a Prince Royal. Someone with that kind of grasp on social niceties would come in handy when dealing with those bloody Elves, and she was clever enough to come up with a way of manoeuvring herself out of the clutches of the greediest family in Westeros. 

“A Sorceress, you say? Show me what you’ve got to offer.” 

Lady Stark smiled, and walked out of the candlelight to join him in the moonlit shadows. She raised her hand toward him, as if expecting him to kiss it. She had three rings on her fingers, and a bracelet on her delicate wrist, set with a multitude of stones - several shades of red, blue, and green; amber, violet and even the sparkle of a diamond. A breath later, all the differing stones began to gently glow with arcane light. 

“A Gem Sorceress?” Jon murmured, impressed. He gently grasped her hand, and brought it to his lips. “Throw in cooking lessons for everyone in the Party, and we have an accord.” 

Lady Stark – **Sansa** – inclined her head, and gave a smile brighter than her gems. “Done!”


End file.
